


Friends Don't Lie

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: It’s what friends are for.





	Friends Don't Lie

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely platonic. Damian doesn’t know now, but probably finds out eventually about Jon’s meetings with his parents and Clark, and has just never been so embarrassed in his entire life. But also never felt so warm and fuzzy inside about it either, so. Jon’s sort-of mission is a success. Kiddo just wants people to be nice, dang it.

He told his parents he was going to Damian’s. He told Damian he had to stay home and finish some homework.

So no one would miss him. No one would even realize he was gone until he was back, so. He was golden.

Despite everything Damian had told him about his past, and the place he grew up – no one attacked him when he arrived. The assassins, in fact, kneeled as he passed, already in block formations that created a singular path for him to follow.

And – he wasn’t scared. He surprised himself. He wasn’t scared of the woman he was going to see, even with the last time he saw her. The only time he met her. When she threatened her own son’s life because it amused her, tried to drag him into a situation he wanted nothing to do with.

He wasn’t scared of Talia al Ghul.

If he was honest with himself, he actually thought she was kind of cool. Strong and smart and fierce, a little like his own mom.

(But his mom was _way_ cooler.)

She was waiting for him in what looked like a throne room. More assassins were in here, but just a few. Guards, Jon guessed. Not like Talia couldn’t easily hold her own, obviously.

She wasn’t sitting in the large, red velvet chair, but rather standing in front of it, arms clasped behind her back, watching him approach.

“I won’t take it easy on you because you’re a child.” She warned as he stopped in front of her. “Or because of who your father is.”

“That’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to.” And then a little smile, mostly for himself. “Damian sure doesn’t.”

Talia gave a little nod, as if that was the right answer, and Damian might have been punished if Jon had said otherwise. “And to what do I owe this visit?”

Jon twisted his lips in thought. “…Damian, I guess.”

“My son sent you?”

“No, I’m here _for_ Damian.” Jon attempted. “To defend him.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Talia admitted.

“You called him your weapon.” Jon said simply. “And I’m here to tell you that he’s not. He’s _not_ your weapon or anyone else’s. He’s not a weapon at _all_. He’s a _person_ , and I’m going to make sure you and everyone else treats him like one.”

“Is that so?” Talia asked with amusement. “And I’m assuming your _father_ will be helping you in this venture, correct?”

“If he wants to, I guess.” Jon shrugged. “Really, I’m just talking about me, Miss…uh…Damian’s Mom. I don’t really care what anyone else does. Damian is _my_ friend, and I’m just trying to make sure no hurts him anymore. Especially people he cares about.” Jon paused. “…Especially his _family_.”

Talia raised her eyebrow in question, mulling over his words for a moment. “Damian is my son, and I will do to and with him what I please.”

“Not if it hurts him, you won’t.” Jon countered, just as calmly. Just as determined. “But anyway – I’m not here to fight you, Miss Talia. Not today. I actually need to get home soon to finish my homework so I can go hang out with Damian. That way, I didn’t actually lie to anyone to come here, you know? I just…wanted to tell you, is all.”

“Well, your words have been noted.” Talia said simply. “I will let you leave now, but I will not be so kind next time we meet, Mr. Kent. Because the next time we cross paths, I will probably kill you, regardless of any pleas by you, your parents or my son. Are we clear?”

“Sure.” Jon shrugged again, then smiled brightly, like what she just said was funny. “If you say so.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just gave her a quick wave, then turned and flew from the compound.

Talia…didn’t quite know what to do with that.

~~

He heard the car long before he saw them coming down the tunnel. If he was honest, he didn’t much care about the Batmobile – he liked the planes Damian’s family flew much better.

When the car appeared, he didn’t look towards them, just stayed where he was with Titus, looking through the memorial cases, at the uniforms of those who had died, and the old styles of costumes none of them used anymore.

Batman and Nightwing didn’t see him when they exited their vehicle. Their chatting voices only died off when they reached the platform, and saw him moving around Damian’s case.

“Jon?” Dick asked curiously. “Everything okay? Where’s Damian?”

Jon shrugged. “Upstairs, I guess. I don’t know.”

Dick glanced at Bruce, who was already frowning. “What do you mean you don’t…”

“I didn’t come here to see him.” Jon cut off. “I’m here to see _you_.”

“Us?” Dick asked, utterly confused. Then repeated: “Jon, is everything okay?”

“Well, when I say _you_ , I mean Mr. Wayne, but I guess you can count too, Dick.” Jon clarified, shoving his hands nonchalantly into his sweatshirt pockets. “And yeah, everything’s fine. I just have a question.”

“O…kay?”

“How come you don’t protect Damian better?” His gaze had shifted to Bruce, then, looking far too much like Clark for either of their liking. Serious and angry and doing everything in his power to keep it under lock.

Dick heard Bruce’s grunt before he spoke, and knew already this wasn’t going to go well. “I beg your pardon?”

“He’s always getting hurt because of you, and always recovering alone because you don’t stay with him.” Jon snapped. “And then he goes out and it happens again, but he acts like it’s all fine and it’s all normal. And in case you’ve forgotten, Batman – it’s _not_.”

“What happens to and with my family is none of your business, _Mr. Kent_.” Bruce hissed back. Dick immediately elbowed him in the side, giving him a glare of his own. “So perhaps you should run back to your farm before I call your parents.”

“Damian is _my_ friend, so yeah, what happens to him _is_ my business.” Jon took a step towards Bruce, determined not to be ignored. “And you know what I think? I think he does all this, I think he throws himself into these awful and terrible situations just so you’ll _notice_ him. So _he_ can protect _you_ , and impress you and then. Then maybe you’ll _love_ him.”

Tension filled the air immediately. They all heard the leather of Bruce’s glove tightening as he balled his hand into a fist.

“Batman, why don’t you love him?” Jon whispered sadly. Then he looked at Dick, face desperate and angry. “Why don’t _either_ of you love him?”

“We do.” Dick tried. Bruce immediately spun away, stomping over to his computer. “But Damian…it’s complicated.”

“It’s _not_.” Jon shook his head. “My parents love me. And when I’m in trouble, they come after me. When I’m _hurt_ , they _stay_ with me, and take _care_ of me.”

“Damian shows he cares through violence.” Dick offered, but to Jon it sounded like the start of an excuse. “He shows he loves someone by jumping in front of them. By…by _dying_ for them – and trust me, Jon, _I know what that’s like._ ”

“So why don’t you do the same for him?!” Jon countered harshly. ”Because I do. I _have_. I’ve jumped in front of him right back. I’ve _yelled_ at him for the stunts he’s pulled to protect me.” And he paused, seemed to think over his words. Dick could tell he didn’t want to say them, that they were maybe too cruel, but they spilled out of his lips. “And I refuse to leave him like _you_ did, Nightwing.”

Dick didn’t respond. He didn’t get angry. Because Jon was right, and Dick hated himself every day for it.

“That’s all he wants.” Jon sounded sad now. “He just wants you to _stay_ with him. He just wants _anyone_ to stay with him. And… _maybe_ care for him too.”

“We do.” Dick murmured mournfully. “We _do_ , Jon. It’s just…” And it seems all he could say, and he hated that too. “Complicated.”

“For _you_ , maybe. You’re his brother, but you raised him, so he feels like your son, but you want him to build that same kind of relationship with Mr. Wayne and not get in the way. Blah, blah, blah. I know that. _Damian_ knows that. He’s emotionally stunted, not _stupid_.” Jon waved off. “I still think you could try harder, Dick, but – I get it. Complicated, sure.” He shifted his wave towards Bruce. “But it’s _not_ complicated for him. He’s his _father_. Damian is his _son_. It shouldn’t be hard for him to show that he loves him. At _all_.”

And Dick tried, honest he did. Had his mouth open to retort and defend and everything, just…nothing came out. Jon was…kind of right.

“Damian tells me you do, that you _do_ love him. But I don’t believe him. And frankly, I don’t think he believes himself. He’s just trying to _convince_ himself.” Jon sighed like he was the disappointed adult in the room. “Just say ‘I love you’ Mr. Wayne. Or ‘I’m proud of you’ or _something_. Don’t just leave him hanging. That’s how he gets in these situations. That’s how he gets _hurt_ -”

“Jonathan.” Bruce cut off coldly. Jon stood a little straighter. “Do you and Damian have a case you’re currently working on?”

“I-.” Jon started. “…No. We don’t. I told you, I came here to talk to y-”

“Then I’m going to ask you to go home.” Bruce said, not turning around. “And I’d appreciate it if you only came here when you’re with your father or with Damian. Not alone. This isn’t a playground.”

Jon glanced at Dick, who shrugged apologetically.

“…If you don’t want him, you could just _say so.”_ Jon whispered, almost in a pout. But Bruce and Dick heard him loud and clear. “I’m sure my parents…my _mom_ would adopt him. And I wouldn’t mind having another brother.”

“Jon.” It was Dick this time. “Don’t…Just _don’t_ , okay?”

“…I just want him happy.” Jon returned sadly. “I just want him to know how loved he is, okay? Because I can only tell him how much I like him so many times without annoying him, and I know it’s not just me.”

“I know.” Dick smiled. “I know you mean well, Jon, just-”

“Goodbye, Jonathan.” Bruce called, ending the discussion. Dick nodded, putting a hand on Jon’s shoulder and pushing him gently towards the exit.

Jon frowned as Dick released him and looked back at Bruce and Dick for just a moment. Then squared his shoulders and began walking away.

If Batman wasn’t going to do what he asked, then Jon would just make sure it happened all himself. Even if that meant making Damian Wayne, Damian Kent.

(Or Damian Prince, or Damian Grayson, or, god forbid, Damian Queen or Damian _Luthor_.)

“Goodbye, Batman.”

~~

He heard his dad coming up the stairs, and sighed. Didn’t move, though. Just stayed lying on his bed, feet on his pillow, comic book held up above his face.

Clark knocked before opening the door anyway. He was smiling, in jeans and a tshirt. “Hey, Jonno. Want to go flying?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, you busy?”

Jon flipped a page of his book. “No.”

“Oh.” Clark repeated. “Then why don’t you want to go? You love flying.”

Jon didn’t look at him. “Because I’m mad at you.”

He didn’t have to look at his father to know the grin had dropped from his face. “How come?”

“Because you’re punishing Damian for something he didn’t do.” Jon returned.

“Yet.” Clark answered immediately, knowing exactly what Jon was talking about. They’ve fought about it before. Multiple times. “Something he hasn’t done _yet_. And Jon, I understand he’s your friend, but I’m just trying to take precautions-”

“Would you do the same for him if Tim Drake said _I_ was going to kill _him_ one day?” Jon snapped. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Because I know you.” Clark sighed. “You’re my son, I know you’d never-”

“Yeah, well I know Damian would never, too!” Jon found himself yelling as he sat up, and threw his book across the room. “You’re only saying this because you know how he grew up. You know what his mom _made_ him do and you’re blaming him. You know how Bruce is and are assuming Damian will be the exact same and _maybe_ worse.”

Clark watched the book flutter to the ground and sighed. “Jon…”

“Save it.” Jon snapped. “You’re not going to change my mind, and I’m not going to change yours. I already figured that out. But I’m going to protect Damian from people who mistreat him, and that includes _you_ , Dad. Okay?”

“I don’t-”

“Just be nice to him, Dad. You don’t know what he’s had to go through. What he _still_ has to go through. And if being nice to him is so hard for you, based on some stupid future theory, then at least try to do it for me.” Jon sighed, like he was the exasperated parent. “Oh man. Having to tell _Superman_ to be nice. What a life I lead.”

And that wasn’t entirely true. Clark knew _exactly_ what Damian had been through, and the instincts forced upon him that he still struggled to control. Bruce mentioned it every time the two talked about their sons – which was more than the boys knew, of course.

Still.

“I’m…sorry I’ve been so rude to your friend. You’re…” And it was hard to say, even for him. Even with the circumstances he was about to mention. “You’re right. I’ve been a jerk to him on…potentially false pretenses. He’s done nothing but try to protect you, especially against this future messenger in Tim Drake, and I’ve done nothing but been suspicious of him.”

“Too busy judging him on something he _might_ do – something we don’t even know the actual _details_ of – to be grateful for what he’s already done for you.” Jon scolded.

“I’m sorry I upset you too, son.” _Though I’m not sorry for trying to protect you_ , Clark didn’t say. “Anything I can do to make it up to you? And Damian?”

“Not right now. I don’t want you anywhere near him, Dad, if I’m honest. If he’s going to protect me from _his_ crazy family, it’s only fair I protect him from _mine_ , too.” Jon hummed. He didn’t mention that he let Lois near Damian still. But that’s probably because his mother was on his side about this, and she’s told Clark so on multiple occasions. “Try again in a few months, maybe I’ll be less mad at you.”

“Okay.” Clark sighed. But then, ever hopeful, “Still no flying today, though?”

“Not today, Dad. Sorry.”

“Okay.” Clark repeated. After a moment: “…Are you headed to Damian’s soon?”

“After I finish this issue.” Jon explained, standing up and sulking over to the book he’d thrown. “Damian lent it to me, actually. Did you know he reads comics? For the art he says, not the simplistic stories. He wants to have a _discussion_ on it, like we’re in school.” Jon snorted a laugh. “He told me his favorite thing to do these days is discuss Mom’s investigative pieces with her, and the current state of journalism. That’s actually the only reason he came over last time – to hang out with _Mom_ , not _me_! Can you believe it?”

“No.” Clark felt a faint smile on his face. “I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because you won’t let yourself.” Jon laid back down on his bed. “Because you won’t give Damian a chance.”

Jon reopened the comic, and Clark got the feeling he’d been dismissed.

~~

“What are you smiling about?”

Jon blinked at the screen, and the menu of the video game the two were playing. The Fortress of Attitude – as Damian refused to call it – was warm, and cozy. They didn’t have a case tonight, or a mission. Just. The Manor was too empty, and the Metropolis apartment was too full. They just wanted a night away from their family, and this was the perfect place.

They’d each planned to go to the fortress alone. But here, they’d shown up at the same time. Funny how that worked.

“Because I just beat you on this level? _Again_?” Jon smirked. Damian rolled his eyes, shook his head. “What, I can’t smile for no reason?”

“No. Only psychopaths do that.” Damian hummed, drinking his water.

“Well, I’m not a psychopath.” Jon promised. “And I’m smiling for no reason.”

“Nerd.” Damian snorted. He put his water bottle down, picking up his controller to scroll through the menus and start a new round.

Jon laughed and shoved his shoulder. Damian smirked back, but didn’t look at him, just reached blindly for a piece of pizza. But that was okay. He was calm and relaxed, a complete 180-turnaround from when they were in public. In uniform. With their dads.

“…Damian?” He found himself whispering.

“Mhu?” Damian said through chewing.

Jon’s smile widened. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Damian did look now. Confused for a moment, panicked for even less than that. Then smiled himself. Swallowed his bite and stared Jon dead in the eye.

“I’m…glad you’re my friend too, Jonathan.” Damian admitted, sounding almost like he was surprising himself with the statement.

And for a second, they just smiled at each other. Then Damian pressed a button, and the two went back to their video game.


End file.
